Suck This, Mr Johnson
by LostinOblivion
Summary: 11 year-old William on his mother, his mother's family, the father he never knew, and the social worker he wished he never met. MSR.


_So, I watched Terminator 1 and 2 in the same night (which is a bit more Schwartzenagger than I can take), and my mind starting whizzing. I got an idea for this story, and ran with it. It's been a long time since I was around any 11 year-old boys, so it may not be entirely accurate to how their minds work. I hope you enjoy anyway, and reviews are always appreciated!_

* * *

Mom's always saying that I'm a special kid. And, not in the condescending BS way parents use to make their kids feel better about being weird. When she says special, she means special.

When I was nine, I found one of my mom's old medical school textbooks, and started reading about the pulmonary system. I didn't impress her until she realized I actually understood the basics of it. After that, she tossed out some of my school subjects, and added in new, harder ones. It was too bad, I kind of liked having it so easy. The funny thing was, Mom didn't seem surprised by it all.

She home school's me, partly to keep me safe (and hidden), and partly because she knew normal school would be too easy for me. That, and we move so much. I like it a lot. She makes me work, but she also tries hard to keep it interesting, entertaining even. And, if we get done early enough, she'll tell me stories about Dad. Mostly though, I like it because I actually get to see more of her this way. She's always so busy working.

See Mom is special too. A lot of people think my mom is nuts, at least the people that don't live with us on the compounds. But, she's the smartest person I know, and not just smart, but wise too. She's a doctor, a scientist, and before she had me, she worked for the FBI. Now though, she's the leader of the Opposition.

It began in a small compound in upstate New York. No, that isn't really true. Where it really began was a tiny office in the basement of a big building in Washington D.C. Mom and Dad started the fight against colonization, and Dad died still fighting it. He was executed by the military for a murder he couldn't have committed. Mom says the entire military isn't corrupt, just the part that buries secrets. The day they killed him, Mom sought me out, and when my adoptive parents relinquished custody, she went and hid in a cabin in upstate New York.

She used the contacts she and Dad made at work, and told them all it was time to stop sitting on the sidelines. They actually listened. That cabin where she raised me for three years became a compound full of the first Opposition fighters. Now there's compounds all over the country, and on other continents too. I've lived in half the ones in the states. We have to keep moving so they don't find us--well, find me.

I'm not just smart, I can also move things with my mind, and sometimes if I concentrate, I can feel other people's emotions. Especially Mom's. It tends to freak people out. I don't make many friends, because most people are afraid of me. If the kids aren't, the parents are, and don't want me around their kids, even on the compounds. Mom's argued with parents, saying they were ridiculous, that I wasn't dangerous, but it didn't really help. They're afraid for her too.

Mom's special to all the opposition fighters too. Her and Dad are sort of heroes to them. A lot of the people at the compounds are abductees, just like Mom and Dad, except my parents were abducted to try and stop their fight. Everyone else was just unlucky. But, even before they were abducted, Mom and Dad were the only ones who cared, who listened to everyone's stories, and investigated them. Mom is their hope for the future, and they're protective of her, especially the guys.

They shouldn't worry. Once you've seen your mom send a huge slug through a supersoldier's jugular with a sniper rifle, keeping that promise to get your homework done before she comes home becomes a lot more important. I don't believe she's afraid of anything--except maybe losing me.

Of course, the fact that she's ten times tougher than most of the guys in the Opposition, doesn't stop anyone from wanting to protect her. I can't really blame them; Mom is small (I'm almost as tall as her now), and thin. She doesn't exactly look like GI Joe. But, she won't stand for any of it; that or those same guys attempts at wooing her. (Mom made me read the classics, layoff.) Mom's really pretty, so a lot of guys try, but they just don't get it.

Dad might be dead, but he never left her. And, I don't think he ever will.

When I was ten, we visited Mom's family; I'd only seen my grandmother a handful times, and my uncles and their families twice. I actually didn't mind not seeing them, they really aren't comfortable around me anyway. Grandma is cool though. I can tell that she doesn't exactly approve of our lifestyle, but she tries to be accepting, and at least she understands why we have to stay hidden. Grandma is also one of only about five people in the whole world who aren't afraid of me. She doesn't care that I'm weird.

My uncles, well they are a different story. They haven't said as much, at least to her face, but they think Mom is nuts. That became pretty clear on that last visit. I was on the floor of my Grandma's living room, with my cousin Danni, putting a puzzle together. Mom and Grandma were on the sofa, Tommy sat between them coloring in a book, both of them fussing over him. Uncle Bill and Aunt Tara were on the loveseat, and Uncle Charlie on an easy chair, while his wife, Carrie was in the kitchen. Danni was a year older then me, Uncle Bill's youngest, and she didn't seem afraid of me. Tommy was Charlie's youngest, and oblivious to everything, and his other son, David, was in the kitchen with his PSP.

I pushed away some of the brown hair falling in my face, and tried to pretend I found the puzzle more difficult than it really did. It was only four hundred pieces, and I've got a photographic memory; I could have finished it much quicker than we were.

I got the memory from my dad, along with my hair, half my brains, and my height. At least, that's what my Uncle Walter says; I'm lanky just like my dad. I've got my mom's eyes, full cheeks, and the other half of my brains. He said that my ability to move things with my mind was probably from both too. I don't know how, though.

Uncle Bill sat with his arms crossed, glancing at me and mom like he wanted to say something. Finally, he did. "So, you two will be moving to a new place again?"

"Yes, we will." Mom didn't offer much, she didn't want to fight with him.

"Is that really good for him?"

"Bill how many times do we have to have this conversation?"

He sighed, and looked down at Danni and me, then back up at Mom. I tried to pretend I wasn't listening, but it was about me, it was always about me.

"Dana, Charlie and I got to talking last week. We invited someone over here today to talk to you and Will."

Mom's jaw tightened, and those blue eyes that soothed me to sleep more times than I can count suddenly looked very cold. I was a little scared. Who'd he invite?

Grandma put a hand over her mouth and gasped. "Bill, please tell me you don't mean what I think you do."

"It was time, Mom. This has gone on too long. That's no way to raise a child."

"Damn it Bill. You call them back, and tell them you were mistaken, that everything is fine." Mom practically growled at him.

"He's already on the way, and I wouldn't if I could."

"You bastard. You want them to take my son away from me?" I heard her voice crack, and looked over. Her eyes were wet, and I was getting scared.

"Mom, what's going on? Who's coming? Why do they want to take me away?" I could hear my own voice crack, as I climbed off the floor and over to her.

"It's alright, Will. No one is taking you anywhere." She leaned forward and hugged me, sensing that I was scared.

The doorbell suddenly sounding startled the heavy silence, and Mom and I tensed almost at the same time. She shot an angry look at Uncle Bill, who looked back at her without sympathy, and rose to get the door. Aunt Tara looked upset, and Uncle Charlie just wouldn't look at anyone. Grandma had Tommy in her arms, and was pulling Danni up with the other, heading out of the living room. I sat down next to Mom, half-clinging to her.

"Mr. Johnson, this is Dana and Will, and that's our brother Charlie, and my wife, Tara. Dana, Brian Johnson is from the DC Children and Family Services Agency." Uncle Bill had a man about Uncle Charlie's age, but with brown hair and a horrible goatee, beside him.

This wasn't good.

"Ms. Scully, William, it's nice to meet you. I wonder if I might speak with you alone for a while?" He was talking to Mom, I moved closer against her.

Mom sighed. "Sure. Will, why don't you go find Grandma?"

I shook my head, and pressed myself against her. I might have an off the charts IQ, and some pretty cool mind tricks, but I'm still a kid. I wanted my mom, I was scared and I could feel her fear too.

She leaned close to me, and spoke softly. "Will, everything is going to be fine, okay? Nothing is going to happen, I'll make sure of it. You grandmother doesn't get to see you often, she'd like a little time with you."

"Come on Will, let your mom talk to Mr. Johnson." Uncle Charlie stood up, and held out his hand to me. I got off the couch, but walked right past him instead, toward the kitchen. I didn't leave though, I stood by the wall, listening to them talk.

"So, Dana, I'm here because your brother expressed some concern to me regarding Will."

"My son is fine. He's healthy, very smart, and happy; _my brother_ just doesn't approve of my lifestyle choices."

"Yes, from what he's told me you and Will move around a lot?"

"We do, yes. My brothers and I were Navy brats, a lot of kids move frequently."

"The difference here being, if I understand correctly, you and Will live in cabins and shacks, unregistered addresses on survivalist camps?"

"You make it sound as if he runs around in a loin cloth, grunting and banging his chest."

Go mom!

"Well then, enlighten me. Tell me about his life."

"Alright. I wake him up at seven, feed him breakfast, and begin lessons at eight. I teach him myself, and if you're worried about my qualifications to teach--I spent years teaching FBI agents in Quantico, Virginia. We have lunch around noon, then more studies until two, and then I leave him to his own devices while I work--usually from home. If I have to leave, there's plenty of people around willing to watch him, Will's a well-behaved kid. Dinner time varies, and I'm not always there, but I try to be as often as possible. Either way, I'm home by eight-thirty, and we have an hour of recreation time for just the two of us before I put him to bed. Horrible abuse, isn't it?"

"Dana, I'm not the villain here." He sounded tired of being looked at as one.

"Are you satisfied then?"

"Not nearly. What about his father?"

"He's dead, for the last nine years."

"Yes, Bill told me he was executed for committing a murder?"

"He didn't kill anyone," she defended quickly.

"But, he was convicted in a military court, isn't that right?"

I heard her breathe in, a deep, sorrowful breath. She missed Dad. I didn't get to hear what she said, Grandma caught me listening in, and yanked me into the kitchen. Aunt Tara was with her, each with a mug of hot coffee. Grandma put of glass of milk down in front of me. I sipped it, and sat down, turning to Aunt Tara.

"Why does Uncle Bill want to take me away from Mom?"

She sighed, rubbing her fingers along the denim-blue mug; she looked tired, but still gave me a smile when she answered. "He doesn't really want to separate you from your mom, Will. He's just worried about both of you, and isn't sure your mom is doing what's best for you."

"You think she's crazy, don't you?" I was so angry, I couldn't feel Mom in the next room.

Tara spoke slowly, like she was being very careful of what she said. "I think your mother has been through a lot over the years, more than anybody should have to go through, and I think talking to someone couldn't hurt her."

I shook my head. That was just a polite way of saying she cracked under the pressure, and was nuts. Why don't people get it? She isn't the only one who believes what she believes. My dad did, as does everyone at the compounds, and Mom's friends at the FBI, the ones who helped her protect me. Are we all crazy?

"Will?" I jumped at her voice, and ran over to her, wrapping my arms around her. I was so lost in my head, I hadn't felt her coming into the kitchen.

She looked down at me. "You okay?"

"I don't want to go anywhere, Mom."

She leaned down to look me in the eyes, and held my shoulders. "You won't have to, I promise. This is almost over, Will. Mr. Johnson would like to talk to you, can you do that?"

"What am I supposed to say to him?"

"Whatever you want, Will," she paused. "The truth."

I frowned, my fat bottom lip sticking out, but nodded anyway. Mom smiled, and gave me that soft look that says I look so much like my father it makes her chest hurt. She pulled me close, and kissed the top of my head, before sending me into the living room. I glanced back at her nervously, she just smiled and projected calm feelings at me. I sat down on the couch across from Mr. Johnson.

"Hi Will, how're you?" He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, condescending grin on his face. Jerk.

"Fine."

"I know you're nervous, but this should be pretty painless, alright?"

"Sure."

"You're pretty close to your mom, aren't you?"

"So?"

He sighed, already irritated with me. Good. "Where do you go if you need to talk to a guy?"

"Uncle Walt and Uncle John," I said.

"I thought your uncles were Bill and Charlie?"

"Those are Mom's brothers, these are her friends."

"Oh yeah? Your mom have a lot of male friends?" He leaned toward me again, as if something finally interested him.

I rolled my eyes. "My mom's not a whore."

He moved back quickly, his mouth opening and closing, not sure what to say to me. "I, I didn't say that, Will. I just asked a question."

"That's where you were going with it. Mom doesn't have sex with either of them, or any other guy that I know of. She isn't interested, she still loves Dad."

"He's been dead for nine years."

"So?"

"Your mother doesn't date...at all?"

I shook my head. "No, she says she's too busy, and it wouldn't be fair to date anyone while she's still in love with Dad."

He seemed thoughtful, then leaned forward again. "Will, where does your mom sleep?"

"In her bed." What kind of a question was that?

"Where do you sleep?"

"In my bed."

"And, where is your bed?"

Realizing where he was going, I crossed my arms over my chest, my hands clenched into fists. "My mother does not molest me."

Mr. Johnson started back again.

"I have my own bedroom. I haven't crawled into bed with my mom since I was six, and was afraid monsters hid under my bed. She isn't a freak, and she isn't a bad person."

"Will, I wasn't saying--"

I cut him off, seething, but forcing myself to calm down. "Do you share a bed with your mom? Cause you know, if you do, you might want to talk to someone about that."

He fell back into the couch, and exhaled loudly. "Will, what has your mom told you about your father?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you didn't really know your dad, and he was obviously very important to your mother, she must have told you about him."

She had, she talked about Dad a lot, trying to make up for the fact that he wasn't around. I knew what Mr. Johnson was getting at here too, but that wasn't the case. Dad is very important to her, but so is honesty. She wants me to know what kind of man my father was, not some idealized version of him. Mom told me he was brilliant, brave, and compassionate, but also obsessive and tortured. He spent most of his life as a very unhappy man, but Mom and I gave him something he needed very badly. A family.

I sighed. "He wasn't perfect, but she still loved him, and he loved both of us very much, and would have been very proud of me."

"That's it?"

I scowled. "What do you want, his complete biography?"

He tapped his fingers on his mouth, and stared at me; I sunk into the couch. Then he exhaled loudly. "Okay Will, what did your mom tell about why you move so much?"

I didn't answer, I couldn't answer that. I know if I told the truth, they'd think Mom was crazy, and would take me away from her. I didn't want that, and it would probably get me killed. But, I didn't know a convincing lie, and I wasn't sure what Mom had told him. I felt trapped, I didn't know what to tell him, it felt like either way I'd lose.

"Will?"

I swallowed, my throat dry, and fingers clenching against my jeans. I bit my lip, trying to think of anything to say, since Mom did say to tell him whatever I wanted. I stood up very straight in front of him, and grabbed myself. "Suck this, Dickweed."

His eyes widened, and he leaned back in shock. I ran back into the kitchen and Mom, and glued myself to her side again. I soon had her attention, and both my uncles, who'd been talking to her.

"Will? What's wrong?" I could feel the worry radiating off her, tempered only by anger. She was wondering what Mr. Johnson said to upset me. Too bad it was the other way around.

Mr. Johnson strode into the kitchen, still looking a little surprised.

"What happened?" Mom asked.

"I asked Will a question, and he responded with something rather inappropriate."

"Oh, what did he say?" He leaned over and whispered it to her, mindful of everyone gathered in the room.

Mom's eyes got huge, and she turned abruptly toward me. I cowered. "William James Mulder! I taught you better manners than that, you apologize to Mr. Johnson right now. Where did you even learn that?"

"TV," I said quietly.

Her eyebrow shot up. "We are going to discuss you TV habits very soon. Apologize to Mr. Johnson now."

I cowered further, and looked at my feet while I spoke. "I'm sorry Mr. Johnson, that was very rude of me."

He nodded. "It's alright, I've heard worse." Then he turned to Mom, "I was under the impression that his last name was Scully?"

"It was, but I changed it after his father was killed," Mom said.

"May I ask why?"

"I didn't want him to ever have to ask me if his father was a good man." She wrapped an arm around me then, and pulled me to her, so my back was against her belly.

He nodded. "Alright, I think I'm done for today, but I plan on coming back tomorrow. I don't believe Will is in any immediate danger, and I do believe Dana, that you're trying to do what's best for your son." He paused, as if to say more, but simply glanced at me.

"You can say whatever you have to in front of Will," Mom said.

"Okay. I'm going to look into the incidents you told me about, from when you were still with the FBI, and I'm going to return tomorrow with a psychologist."

Mom's grip tightened around me, and I started to get scared again. What's wrong with a psychologist? Dad was one.

"I believe this psychologist will diagnose you as a paranoid schizophrenic. I don't think your delusions are a direct threat to Will, but I think they could prove detrimental to his emotional development in the long run. However, I don't want you to worry Dana. You agree to whatever treatment regimen the doctor prescribes, and you won't lose custody of your son. If you need inpatient treatment, I feel comfortable leaving Will with your mother, or one of your brothers."

Oh, that's what was wrong. I pressed myself further into Mom, as if that alone could stop him from taking her away.

Mom only nodded at him, appearing calm, but I could feel her heart pounding against my back. More importantly, I could feel the fear leeching off her, into my bones, rattling them. Yep, the only thing Mom is afraid of, is losing me.

Mr. Johnson left then, Uncle Bill escorting him out, and returning to a silent kitchen.

Mom turned to Uncle Bill, "Is this what you wanted, Bill? Them to lock me up and drug me into oblivion?"

"Not really, but if it helps you..."

"Jesus, you really think that would help me?" Her voice was getting louder, angry; I hardly ever heard Mom angry.

"Dana, you're sick. You need help." His voice was softer than I'd ever heard it, and he actually sounded sad.

"You think that, because you don't see, Bill. No matter how much evidence I could shove in your face, you still wouldn't believe." I heard a sigh, and turned to see Uncle Charlie shaking his head, and looking at the floor.

"Dana, I've got friends in the Bureau, remember? You and Mulder were pretty infamous ten years ago--they all figured he was crazy, and you're loyalty to him was going to get you killed. That was then, you want to know what they're saying about you now?" He didn't paused for an answer. "You cracked. You couldn't handle that Mulder killed someone, you couldn't handle that he died as a murderer, and hell, you couldn't handle that _he died_. You lost it, and disappeared."

"Mulder didn't _die, _Bill. He was murdered."

"Do you think your denial is really healthy for Will?"

Mom inhaled, and pinched between her eyes. "We could argue about this until we're both blue in the face, but I don't want one of Will's few times with everyone to be a lot of yelling and anger. Let's forget about it."

Uncle Bill nodded. "You're right...If they take you for inpatient treatment, Will can stay with us for a while," he said.

Mom's arms tightened around me again. "I appreciate the offer, but no."

"What?" He gaped.

"If Will stays with anyone, it'll be John and Monica."

My eyes had lit up at that moment, I hadn't seen them in forever. I was excited to see them, but Mom's iron grip around me said this wasn't going to be a social visit.

"You're picking them over family, because you're pissed at me?"

"Not everything is about you, Bill," Mom sighed.

"Then why?"

"Jesus Bill, leave her alone already?" Uncle Charlie ran a hand through his dark red hair, and still couldn't bring himself to look at Mom.

"Don't forget, Charlie, you agreed to this," Bill said, pointing a finger at him.

"Yeah, and now I feel like a complete asshole." He glanced at me then. "Sorry Will, you didn't hear that."

I shrugged.

"So, you're saying you're okay with our sister raising her son with a bunch of lunatics in the middle of the woods like she's the goddamn unabomber?" He crossed his thick arms over his chest, scowling at Charlie.

"No, I'm saying we've been out of the loop on our sister's life for well over a decade, we don't really know what the hell is going on. And, Mom doesn't seem to think she's crazy, shouldn't we maybe trust that?"

"Mom wants to see her grandson and daughter, she's willfully blind!"

Mom was shaking her head back and forth tiredly, like she didn't want to hear any of it, she was too worn out.

"Pot, kettle, Bill. You're blinded by hatred."

"You never met the man, Charlie, you wouldn't know. He was one sorry, certifiable son of a bitch, and he made our sister a looneytune!"

I was so focused on Uncle Bill's seething that I didn't see it coming. I don't think any of us realized what happened until a full minute after the sound of the thwack. Mom was fuming.

"You will not insult Mulder in front of his son, Bill. I won't allow it."

She released her grip on me, but took my hand instead, and led me out of the kitchen. My spine was rigid from the anger flowing through her, I'd never felt Mom that angry before. It was scary. We went into the TV room, where all my cousins were parked on the floor, half playing a board game, half watching cartoons. Mom fell tiredly onto the couch, and I sat on the floor and watched Tommy chew on a game piece.

Hours later, I felt someone shake me, and blinked awake turning my head to see my mother's face. She put a finger to her lips, and motioned me to get up. She already had our bags ready, and her jacket on. She helped me get mine on, and then led my still half-asleep body down the stairs. She must have put my shoes on my feet at some point, because I heard leaves crunching under my feet as we trekked outside. It was still dark out, really dark out, and I wondered what was going on.

Mom, with a suitcase in each hand, pushed me along to a dark blue sedan, it's lights were off, but I could hear the engine going. Two figures popped out, and took the suit cases from her, loading them into the trunk, while Mom loaded me into the back seat. She slid in beside me, as the driver and passenger climbed back in the car. The few seconds the light was on I saw their faces, and my eyes lip up, wide awake now.

"Uncle John! Aunt Monica!" I shrieked with glee.

Aunt Monica smiled at me, and put a finger to her lips, while Uncle John began to drive away. He didn't put the lights on until we were turning onto the next block.

"It's all okay, Will. Go back to sleep," Mom whispered to me, pulling me to lay in her lap. I got comfy, and felt her fingers brushing through my hair as she began to sing softly to me. I don't know why she always chose that song, but for as long as I could remember, she'd sing me the bullfrog song to get me to sleep.

That was over a year ago. Everybody was really upset that we left in the middle of the night without a word, but Mom refused to apologize to anyone except Grandma. Mr. Johnson was apparently really angry that we disappeared, said that the next time Mom turned up, I was immediately being removed from her custody. Grandma said not to risk visiting, and Mom told her that she was too busy anyway, but that she'd see us again in December 2012.

Grandma got here last tonight, Uncle Walter brought her. It was the first time she ever came to us, instead us visiting her. Mom told me she was here to stay, and said that my uncles and their families were being moved to other compounds, closer to their homes. Honestly, I'm not all that sad at the thought of Uncle Bill being abducted, but Mom wants to protect him.

We're all gathered in the big meeting house, where there's a big TV up front, and a couple radios beside it. Mom said the TV signal will go before the radio signals, and when the radio signals goes, it's gotten bad. Everyone on our compound is gathered here now, with sleeping bags and pillows, to await the invasion. Mom said it would be better if everyone is together, it wouldn't be as scary for us. She's up front now with Uncle John and Aunt Monica. Grandma and I are camped out in the back.

Uncle John is whistling to quiet everyone, and then he nods to Mom. There's a camera on her with a feed to the other compounds. She nervous, worried, but she doesn't want anyone else to be. I can feel her really clearly now. She's telling us all not to be scared, that were safe, that we've been preparing for this day for years. Mom says that we may never see victory or peace in our lifetimes, but that we'll fight to give our children a chance, and our children's children. She says people have already been lost to the cause, and more will be, but in almost twenty years she never gave up, and she won't start now.

She wants everyone to be brave, but she's very scared. She's afraid she can't protect everyone, like she promised she would. She's afraid that no matter how hard they fight, it will all be futile, that she'll have led all these people, brought them together and given them hope for nothing. She wants Dad. She needs his strength, his relentlessness to give her courage. She's playing with her cross, and looking at me. I know she can't feel me like I can her, but I try to send her all the faith I have in her anyway.

She talks for a while, and then nods at the guy with the camera, then the TV goes on, and everyone watches her walk back over to Uncle John. They trust her and believe in her just as I do, because she's the only one who had the strength to start the fight.

"You were great, Mom!" I jump up and hug her as she comes toward us. She smiles, and I'm glad I did it.

"Dana, do you really believe it's going to happen tonight?" Grandma is nervous.

"Tonight, sometime tomorrow, I don't know, but it will happen, Mom." Mom squeezes Grandma's hand, and sits down with us, watching everyone talk or watch the TV.

It's sort of funny, the same programs are running like they always were, as if tonight isn't going to be our last night with TV. No TV, no radio, no internet, no world.

"Are you okay, Will?" Mom was looking at me, sometimes I wondered if she could feel me, she always seemed to know when something was bothering me.

I shrug shyly. I don't want to admit that I'm a little scared.

"Come here." She waves me over into her arms, and let me lay down with my head in her lap. She brushes her fingers through my hair, and starts to sing very softly, the song she always sings to lull me to sleep.

I'm not asleep for very long, I don't think. But, Mom is gone, and in her place a pillow. Grandma is still sitting beside me, and I pull myself up and look around. A lot of people are laying down now, having fallen asleep, but Mom is awake. She's up front again with Aunt Monica, talking and sipping something out of mug. Probably coffee. The TV is all static now, gray garbled fuzz, and someone turned the volume down.

I walked over to them, but stopped when heard them turning up the radio dial. It took a minute to understand what it was, but then I figured it out. An emergency broadcast.

_"...are asking that you all remain in your homes, and not panic. The CDC and FEMA are working on containing the viral outbreak, method of transmission is unknown at this time..."_

People were waking up as Mom turns the volume up loud enough so everyone could hear it. A few people go to the windows, but there is nothing really to see, it's too dark. I check my watch, it's barely five a.m. I walk over to Mom, and hug her, she holds me in her arms, and kisses the top of my head.

Aliens took over our planet in the middle of the night on December 12, 2012.

Mom was right.

Suck _that_, Mr. Johnson.


End file.
